"inside" of the earth, and proceeded to tell him how my father
and myself had gone in by way of Spitzbergen, and come out by
way of the South Pole country, whereupon I was put in irons. I
afterward heard the captain tell the mate that I was as crazy as
a March hare, and that I must remain in confinement until I was
rational enough to give a truthful account of myself.

Finally, after much pleading and many promises, I was released
from irons. I then and there decided to invent some story that
would satisfy the captain, and never again refer to my trip to
the land of "The Smoky God," at least until I was safe among
friends.

Within a fortnight I was permitted to go about and take my place
as one of the seamen. A little later the captain asked me for an
explanation. I told him that my experience had been so horrible
that I was fearful of my memory, and begged him to permit me to
leave the question unanswered until some time in the future. "I
think you are recovering considerably," he said, "but you are not
sane yet by a good deal." "Permit me to do such work as you may
assign," I replied, "and if it does not compensate you
sufficiently, I will pay you immediately after I reach Stockholm
-- to the last penny." Thus the matter rested.

On finally reaching Stockholm, as I have already related, I found
that my good mother had gone to her reward more than a year
before. I have also told how, later, the treachery of a relative
landed me in a madhouse, where I remained for twenty-eight years
-- seemingly unending years -- and, still later, after my
release, how I returned to the life of a fisherman, following it